


Time

by graywhatsit



Series: Hatbots [14]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Existential Crisis, Gen, Growing Old, Hat Films, Moral Dilemmas, hatbots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywhatsit/pseuds/graywhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans can't live forever.</p><p>(or: the distant grand finale of the hatbots series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. time

**Author's Note:**

> i know, i know  
> it's a sad day when you have to let your babies go  
> but i can always write more taking place before this, right?

No one can live forever, and the three of them knew that.

Everyone knows that, it isn’t news to anyone to hear that someone has passed away, or that the basic fact of life is the end is inevitable. Time passes and everything changes.

But that didn’t mean they liked to think about it, and it also didn’t mean they had to think about it.

Trott and Ross were androids. They wouldn’t get any older, not really. They’d always look in their mid-twenties, strong and functional as ever provided they had regular upkeep. So why should they?

Alex was human. He would die one day. Grow old and unable to function and pass on, as any other organic being does. But he was in his prime, so why should he think about that inevitability?

But he wouldn’t be there forever.

 

Shortly after Alex’s 36th birthday, ten years after their creation, Trott began to worry.

He was as healthy and strong as ever, of course, but.. something just seemed a little different. Not quite how it used to be. Calmer, slower, though only marginally.

Concerned, he’d done research, as the curious android had always been prone to do.

His friend, he found, was about middle-aged, whatever that meant. A little more digging helped him clear that up, too.

Alex was in the middle of his lifespan. Half of the time he had allotted was gone.

In another 35 years or so.. he’d be too old. He wouldn’t be the same- be sick and slow and tired, not the Alex they knew and loved. Humans also seemed to forget things towards the end.

He very well could forget them, and then leave them very soon after.

And that knowledge truly terrified him, and Ross when he explained.

Alex was their creator, their very best friend. No one else knew of their nature, even if they had become friends.

And he would leave them.

They couldn’t allow that. He needed to stay with them, always. They were a trio, a group, and a band like theirs _never_ split up, not for anything.

And so he started a project. He’d learn everything he could, experiment and tinker. He had the time and the capacity to learn, though he couldn’t get an actual degree.

He’d find a way to save his friend and keep them all together, and a cyborg seemed like the perfect starting point.

 

Several more years passed, and- eventually- Trott had his plans. He could do exactly what he needed to keep Alex with them, and- when the time came- he could save his life.

But Alex had his own plans.

He was old, he knew that. He’d been growing slower every year, and his body just wasn’t as strong as it used to be, nor his mind as sharp. At not quite 70, a trip to the doctor proved his suspicions: he was dying, and there was little to be done to help him.

But that was alright, truly; he’d lived a good life, done everything he wanted. His only regret would be leaving his friends alone.

And that’s when he started to work.

 

Trott knew it was time. They’d need to do this very soon, else it may be too late.

With a deadline hanging over their heads, both androids hurried to gather materials, tools, rushed through schematics and instructions. Everything needed to be perfect, and when it finally was, it was very late at night. They simply didn’t have the charge to complete the procedure tonight; it’d have to be done in the morning.

After running over what he needed to do repeatedly, until it was burned into the back of his synthetic eyelids, Trott plugged in and powered down.

 

When he awoke again, it was a normal day. Warm sunlight was streaming in through the windows, a sliver of bright blue sky visible from just the right angle between the blinds. **[Approximately 8:05 AM, GMT]** A little later than usual, as they’d adapted to their creator’s schedule, but that was fine. The extra sleep filled the backup battery installed so long ago, and you never really knew when you needed a bit more.

And they just might today.

After getting his fellow android up, he instructed him to prepare the room for the operation; as he’d been in on the plan since the beginning, Ross knew exactly what needed to be done, almost as well as Trott, himself. Two heads were better than one, especially in something of this magnitude.

Trott instead went to wake up his creator- recently, he’d been very slow to wake in the morning, and he needed all the help he could get in order to do so.

There he was, still sleeping peacefully, bundled under the multitude of blankets he’d started to need in his old age.

But, as he reached to touch his friend’s shoulder, Trott froze.

His chest wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing.

Panic rose in his chest- or, at least, what felt like it- and he placed his fingers instead on his neck, checking his pulse point.

Not a thing, and any warmth left was gone in a few seconds.

“Smith? Smith, it’s not funny.” He played jokes all the time, for his entire life. He was likely holding his breath, using that trick with the ball squeezed under the arm to hide his pulse. “Come on, you’ve played this one before, I’m not fooled.”

Nothing. Not a twitch.

“Smith, wake the fuck up!” More panic, so much so that he was forgetting to scan. No, calm down, check. You’ll know then. Taking a deep breath- why was he shaking, he wasn’t built for that, right?- he fired up his processor.

**[No pulse found; No respiratory functionality. No brain activity. Physical examination shows muscles stiff as a result of rigor mortis.]**

No. No, no.

**[Updating file…. Alex Smith: deceased as of 5:42 AM, GMT]**

Could he be sick? Was that possible? He didn’t know, but it certainly _felt_ like he could. His processor stopped working, he couldn’t think. What had happened? Smith was..

“Ross! Ross, get in here!”

 

Neither thought a funeral was ever meant to be so… _pretty_.

From everything they’d ever experienced or learned, funerals were dark and sad, always meant to be held during rainstorms, with crying people everywhere and dark clothes and solemn words.

But this was a normal day. A little sunny for England, but no warmer or cooler than usual for early summer. The people who showed up weren’t all dressed in black- just formal clothing, of all styles and colors, though still respectful. There were tears, sure, and a few solemn words, but mostly, it was just a memorial.

They didn’t _want_ a memorial. They wanted Smith back.

They’d been offered the chance to speak, seeing how they’d been lifelong companions, but they honestly didn’t believe they could. Ross for just how in shock he was, still numbed by everything, and Trott, for the awful pain in his chest. Besides, what if they gave something away in their grief?

Alex had made them promise to conceal their nature, for their own safety, and they would never break it, not for anything.

 

Once everything had finished- the speeches, the condolences, the burial, itself- both androids left quietly, returning to their home to mourn.

Their friends understood- close as they were, _strange_ as they were, they loved each other dearly. They’d surely need the time alone, and so they took up the job of cleaning up and settling things.

Neither construct spoke the entire way back home, but they still stayed close, even clinging to each other’s hand as if it were some lifeline, the only cable capable of keeping them online.

They definitely noticed the absence of a larger, rougher hand in each of their free ones. They didn’t do it often, but enough for the three of them.

Words weren’t needed, even when they both decided to enter the workshop. Where they’d seen him for the first time, where everything started. It was the absolute perfect place to remember him, to mourn.

As if there were ever a good place for such an act.

The second they entered, however, they noticed something quite out of place: there, on the old, worn and stained workbench lay… _something_ , covered in a clean white sheet. And stuck, right on top, was a piece of paper.

No one had come into the house since his passing.

But.. they hadn’t been in here since then, either.

His fans- a simulation of a heart, as he hadn’t one of his own- whirred louder as the smaller of the pair reached for it, instantly recognizing the scratchy scrawl in the letter.

 _‘What a life it’s been, hm? Best two friends in the world, achieving my dream, seeing so much in all this time. But time runs out for everyone, and as great as I am- I’m_ joking _, Trott- I’m no exception. Still, I couldn’t leave you all alone- what’s under here may help. Ross, Trott… goodbye and good luck. I love you, and I’ll miss you both. -Smith’_

They were sure, had they been able to, they’d be tearing up right about now.

“What’s under here may help…” Ross echoed, squinting down at the paper still in his companion’s hands. “Help with what?”

“I don’t know.” Still, he could see the curiosity, the desire to understand burning in Trott’s eyes- he hadn’t seen that since the morning they’d found him. “But we’ll see, won’t we?”

With that, he carefully pulled back the sheet, dropping it- and his jaw- when he saw just what lie underneath.

Smith. Or, at least, Smith as he was so many years ago, back when he’d created them. In his mid-twenties, just like them, same reddish hair, peach skin, stubble… everything. As if he’d been lifted from that time and placed here and now.

**< Similar alloy. Synthetic skin, human hair. Android: Alex Smith.>**

“What the..” Ross blinked down at the creation on the bench, hand hovering just over the chest before laying on him. Solid, felt just as his friend did. “When did he..?”

“I..” His processors were having a hard time running, at odds with the emotion in his core. There he was, as they’d always wanted him to be, right before them. He’d be with them again… but would it really be him?

“Only one way to find out,” the taller replied, gently. He hadn’t known he’d wondered aloud.

“Yeah.” He was shaking again, as he’d done those few days ago, what seemed like years, as he reached for the access panel, right where each of theirs were. They’d just have to see.

And now, they had all the time in the world.

“Alright, Smiffy,” he mumbled, typing in the right code to wake the new construct, “Time to wake up.”


	2. fake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is the Android!Smith getting on?

It had been a week since the new android had been powered on, and both Trott and Ross _hated_ him.

He was exactly like Smith, in every single way. He sounded the same, he thought the same, he laughed, dressed, felt exactly the same.

But he was _not_ their creator.

He had just passed away- how cruel could he honestly be, leaving them with.. this _thing_ , rather than staying around forever as he’d promised?

They wanted to be alone in their grief, to mourn him as they should have done, but the _thing_ was there, exactly the same as he’d always been, wanting to joke around and play games and tinker and-

They were somewhat kind to his face, at least. They did play, and help him tinker, and halfheartedly joked and japed. They did sit on the couch together and watch stupid movies, insulting every last awful bit of them.

But they never once called him Smith. That was reserved for their _friend_ and _Alex_ was not their friend. He was a replacement goldfish, an exact, terrible clone that only served to remind them of the truth. He had his own separate bed, rather than pile in with them as they’d always done. The couch was bigger, now, and they stayed very far away from him, rather than sprawl out and eventually just become a giant pile of limbs.

They both admired and despised their creator’s thorough nature and clever mind, however: somehow, he’d managed to incorporate memories, so _Alex_ knew them as friends, knew every single thing that Smith did, that each of them remembered, as well.

But he wasn’t _warm_ , physically or emotionally, not in the same way, and he wasn’t soft, nor did he smell like spice or have those weird crinkles at the corners of his eyes or get stupid blemishes that they always used to poke fun at.

Basically, he wasn’t human, and they hated him for it.

For his own part, the new android (for the sake of simplicity, here referred to as Prime, using the mathematical concept of prime in points) had no idea he wasn’t the real Alex Smith. For all he knew, he had been there with them since the very beginning, all those years ago, and had lived as an android like the pair of them since their creation.

He could remember it all, but for some reason, his friends had become so cold recently. They hardly seemed to want to be around him, though they did try. He relished when they did- perhaps something happened that they weren’t up to telling him quite yet. It irked him, sure, but he wouldn’t push; they’d say in their own time, hopefully. Everything could be back to normal then!

So, he simply waited patiently for that time, attempting to get them to have fun with him, cheer them up from whatever had happened in the past. He hated to see either of them upset, and he’d do anything to fix that.

“Trott, what if it-”

“Shut. Up,” the shorter android hissed, closing the workshop door firmly behind them. They needed a space to speak in private, and this seemed as good a spot as any. “It’s powered down, anyway. It couldn’t hear if we _yelled_.”

“Alright, alright.” Ross paused, making sure that the heavy door was locked, before turning back, leaning against the solid wood. “So- what is it?”

“What is it?” Trott echoed, scoffing. “I can’t fucking take it anymore! That _thing_ isn’t Smith!”

“I know, Trott, but we have to live with it now. I don’t like it much, either, but it’s our responsibility. Besides, how would Smith feel?”

“Smith’s _dead_ ; how the fuck should I know?” His voice had risen slightly, and Trott closed his eyes, trying to slow the frantic whirring of his fans. “I miss him. I miss him so much, I don’t- that _thing_ doesn’t work, whatever he wanted it to do. He said it would help and it _didn’t_ , Ross! He’s still _gone_ , it doesn’t change _anything_!”

“I know,” his friend replied, simply, and moved in to give him a hug. They didn’t often share these, at least before, but now it was a very welcome comfort. “I know it doesn’t. We can’t do anything, though- it’s here to stay. As much as we miss him, we can’t just..”

Trott instantly knew what he meant. “Yes, we can. I’m going to turn it off. I can’t handle it anymore. All it does is remind me and not deliver it and I’m _done_.”

“Trott-”

Both paused, hearing a solid _thump_ , as if something hit the wall. Seconds later, footsteps echoed down the hall, a door being opened then slammed shut.

“Oh no.”

He’d heard them.

Heard every single last word.

He wasn’t Alex Smith? Who was he, then?

Were they not friends? Then why could he remember everything that told him they were? Is this why they acted the way they did around him?

Was he just a reminder? Did he have no other purpose?

Was he even _real_?

As he ran, not even really sure on the destination, the android’s head gave a mighty _twitch_ , and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. It felt like explosions going off inside his head, shooting awful pain throughout his entire processing system. That, combined with the blinking error message playing over and over, was simply too much.

In pain, he could only manage to slump against a building- where and what, he didn’t know- and wait for all of it to just-

Another _twitch_ , and it all went black.


	3. repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Prime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was not written by me, but by a good friend of mine, and it's being posted with permission!  
> thank you, eps <3

After the door had slammed, things had gotten a lot worse than before. It wasn’t just the feeling of missing their creator, it was realization that they’d lost the last thing he’d created. A gift he’d spent endless days and hours on, just to try and make his presence as eternal as he’d promised his dearest friends.  
They’d been selfish in their grief and while they had the right to be upset there was no excuse to be completely consumed by it. Smith would have been angry at them for taking it out on someone who didn’t know they’d committed some imaginary and heinous crime against them.  
They could almost hear him in their minds, scolding them in that fatherly tone.   
 _“You know better than to do something like that, now quit being such twats and fix your mistakes!”_  
    Of course, they’d gone out looking for him. They’d called out his name and they’d tried to think where someone with their creator’s mind would have run off to.  
Sadly, they hadn’t found the missing android.  
On the 1st and 2nd night, they’d tried to keep calm about it. There was no way he could have gotten far with such low charge, he’d be somewhere they could reach.  
On the 7th night they felt dread rising. On the 23rd, they’d realized they’d failed their creator.  
  _“We really messed up didn’t we?”_  Ross asked as he looked at Trott from where he was sitting. The shortest looked smaller than usual, his eyes a bit glassy from his pent-up sorrow.  
  _“You didn’t mess up, I’m the one who was going to shut him down…”_  the other replied with a sigh.  _“None of this was his fault…Smith would be so disappointed…”_  
    The only comfort they had was each other. It wasn’t enough to calm their worries as eventually a storm began to brew up in the sky and heavy rainfall and thunder struck cruel and without mercy.  
Where ever the android replica of Smith had gone, they really did hope he was somewhere sheltered.  
  
    Heavy rain had been the only thing the two had seen all week. No signs of the android and what ever clue he’d left behind while fleeing had been flushed away by the storm’s filthy water.  
When the raging storm passed, they’d returned to looking around. There had been a considerable amount of damage in the streets.  
Bins had fallen over; the few trees in the area had branches break off; the usual sort of things you’d find after a harsh downpour.  
Anyone or anything that had been outside would have been soaked to the bone.  
Things didn’t look promising for the missing android.  
    Regardless of impossibilities, Ross and Trott carried on their exploration. They needed to find Smith’s double. They needed to make things right.  
So it was of no surprise when they came upon the building Prime had slump against before shutting down.  
It amazed them that no one had found him. It horrified them the state he was in.  
    Smith had always made sure the two didn’t stay out in the rain for too long. They were waterproof on the inside and their synthetic skin could withstand at least one hour of being soaked. But more than that and the materials would begin to decay.  
That was a flaw their creator had never been able to fix. So of course considering Prime was so exposed to the elements, the two shouldn’t have been so surprised.  
A great chunk of his skin was missing and a lot of machinery was in perfect sight.  
The android’s horrific state of disrepair was reminiscent of a twisted horror movie.  
Only instead of appearing like a zombie or a broken down murderous machine, Prime looked like a blend of the two.  
Human and inhuman.  
It was disturbing.  
    They couldn’t move him in broad daylight. Not like this, people would see the damaged android and put 1 and 1 together.  
Instead, they returned home and prepared while slowly beating themselves up as the image of the broken down replica, their heavily neglected brethren, haunted their memory banks.  
As night fell, the two drove back to the building. They were grateful no one had noticed Prime. They really were.  
  
    After that, Prime had never been the same. Part of his programming had bugged terribly. Nothing that could lead to a shut down, but just about enough to make him inept at a few tasks, such as washing the dishes or tinkering with fragile items.  
He broke them as he no longer had a grasp of his own strength.  
Another thing that had changed was his attitude.  He’d become anti-social and refused their company. And since he was under house-arrest, for the safety of others and himself, he could no longer do anything his programming once thought normal of him.  
He couldn’t be Alex Smith anymore.  
    Ross and Trott had done their best to fix him, they really had. But they could not undo what they’d wrought upon the youngest of the three, nor was their terrible “creation” willing to forgive them right away. Not when he felt so lost and betrayed.  
With time, maybe they’d get a chance to redeem themselves. For now, they had to deal with the loss of Smith who’d been laid to a peaceful rest, and Prime who’s start at life had been cut to hellish shreds by two people he thought he could trust.


	4. finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prime only wants to make them happy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also written by my very good friend, eps, and posted with permission!
> 
> thank you for sticking with the hatbots, friends-- if you want to see any more of them, my tumblr ask (natspajamas) is always open for requests, and i think they've started up their own little project on tumblr... (askhatbots)
> 
> this doesn't have to be the end

In due time, Prime took it upon himself to find a new purpose in life. His creator, the real Alex Smith, had made him to be his replacement so as to keep his beloved older creations happy. Prime had failed this objective and now his patchwork appearance reflected his failure. Granted Trott and Ross had felt guilt for what they’d caused and had tried to move on and be nicer. Prime had accepted the new name and attempts just as he’d accepted his new-found purpose. Bringing Alex Smith back to life.  
  
At first he’d planned to create a new body, but that wouldn’t be the real Smith either. It’d be another copy like Prime. The other two hated copies, he wouldn’t displease them like before. So instead he’d procured Trott’s plans. He’d not just bring Alex Smith back, he’d improve him. Prime would make him better and more durable. He’d make him what nature could never do. Alex Smith would be impossibly perfect.  
  
Of course there were a few issues with Prime’s plan. The first was obviously decomposition, the second was access to the body, the third was escaping the watchfull eyes of the regretful Androids he shared a house with. But of course he’d thought it out in the end…Well at least two of them. Escaping Trott and Ross unnoticed and digging up his creator’s corpse felt almost too easy, dealing with the rotting aged body was…Slightly more difficult.  
  
Days, weeks, a month…Time flew by as Prime worked on his secret project. He’d managed to get Trott and Ross away from the workshop. This had been an easy thing to do as the two were still incapable of entering it without feeling uncomfortably lonely. They truly missed their creator and it instinctively pained Prime to see them so down. He’d been programmed to be Alex Smith after all! He was almost obliged to love those two. But soon enough he’d not have to worry as much anymore.  
  
Prime had done the impossible, he’d arranged a way to completely stop the decomposition of the rotting corpse that was now held together by a terrifying mix of metal and wires and gods knew what else. What he’d not been on time to save he’d simply replaced with synthetic components. Besides all of this it still looked relatively close to what Alex Smith had looked like. All it needed was programming to restart the brain as well as some basic functions for survival. Prime felt quite proud.  
  
Pride swelled fast like a balloon, but it deflated just as quickly. He’d chosen a day where neither of the two would be present so that he could turn on what would soon be their living creator once more. He’d be a surprise. Prime later found that it would be the most unpleasant surprise he’d ever had to offer anyone. As soon as he’d gotten a few volts into the dormant cyborg-like corpse, it did awaken…But it did not behave in a human manner. Gods forgive him he’d created a monster.  
  
When Trott and Ross came back home, they’d been horrified. The house was a mess, it had looked like some crazed maniac had gotten hold of a sledgehammer and gotten a go at it in some deranged fashion of remodeling. Naturally they’d assumed the worst. That some bloke had broken in and tried to rob them blind. Then of course they felt dread…Prime had been on his own and he was in no condition to defend himself. So they searched the broken house. They searched and found only further torment.  
  
They’d found Prime in front of the bedroom, barricading the door with as much stuff as he could get a hold of. He was just as badly broken as the house, scratched up and beaten and he visibly favored his right leg. When they’d questioned him, he’d just about jumped out of his skin before turning to look at them. The dam broke like a twig under one’s shoe. “I just wanted you to be happy again! I didn’t mean for this to happen! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” he’d called out as his barricade gave in.  
  
Had either of them been able to vomit, they would of right away. Anger and anguish filled their minds as they looked at the aberrant abomination Prime had created. They could recognize the creature, it was definitely their beloved creator’s deceased form twisted into a half-man half-mechanical terror that held no love in those glassy eyes made of plastic and metal. The mouth held in a horrendous snarl and the creaky noises with each unnatural movement…This thing mocked their Smith by existing.  
  
And existing they could not allow it to do. It was wild and savage and it could only do what the limited and primitive programming allowed it. Prime may have been Smith’s copy, but his creator had not given him the gift of creating. Only repairing. He should have never dreamt of trying the impossible. Prime should have let it go…Just as Trott and Ross should have let their Smith go…It was a mistake neither would make again.  
  
Sadly, they’d not been fast and the hopes of once more laying their creator to rest were lost as the monster bellowed and ran, ran so quickly it outpaced them all. And just like that, the beast was lost to the night as it escaped into the streets and out of sight. A danger to them and humans alike. Prime had messed up terribly…And the worst part was knowing that he’d done it for them. Because they’d been terribly selfish and equally terrible friends.  
  
The remainder of the night was spent in tears. They could not cry, not truly anyways, but they could seek comfort in each other. That night had been the first one they’d ever held the youngest so tightly. Mourning mistakes that could no longer be undone. Fearing for the repercussions this terrible deed would bring them. But the less negative side prevailed. Prime was finally accepted as one of them. He was once more Alex Smith. Just as the real had wanted. They’d made him proud by moving on.


End file.
